


50/50

by bulletdart



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Future Fic, Illustrated, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-02 02:04:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13308093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletdart/pseuds/bulletdart
Summary: “I’m still surprised that you decided to go there. To Rikkai, I mean.”Or, an extremely self-indulgent illustrated fic tracing Ryoma and Kintaro’s college romance from rivals to friends to lovers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The other relationships in this fic won’t be tagged even after they’re clearly together for spoiler reasons. There are a lot more characters than this in the fic, but I only tag them as they show up, and I only tag the recurring characters. This fic attempts to be canon compliant, but honestly I have no idea where the hell NPOT is going so God knows if anything I write here will get invalidated. Appellation/characterization diverges slightly from canon, just because I think the characters and their relationships would mature, realistically.
> 
> My 2018 goal is to write a fic with 50 chapters and 50 illustrations, so chapters will be on the shorter side (but will all be illustrated). I’m around 5 chapters ahead and will do my best to update weekly. This is my first long/chaptered fic, so please be gentle. Thank you so much for reading!

Ryoma is, once again, a foreigner in his homeland.

Nanako smiles at him as he descends the airport escalator, holding a piece of cardstock that reads “ECHIZEN” in bold Roman characters.

“I can still read Japanese, you know.” Nanako shrugs and gestures for him to hand her one of his bags.

“Just thought you’d like some familiarity.”

“It’s not like I’ve never been to Japan before. I came back for your wedding last year, didn’t I?”

Nanako laughs and leads him out to the parking lot. “Okay, you got me there. Do you even remember my husband’s name though?”

Ryoma looks away.

“That’s what I thought.” She opens the trunk and dumps in his suitcase. Ryoma places his backpack and racket bag into the trunk with more care and slides into the passenger seat.

Nanako starts up the car and glances over at him. “You’re only staying over with us until the school term starts, right?”

Ryoma makes a noise of affirmation. “I’m not going to university in Tokyo, so I’ll be moving into the dorms.”

Nanako reaches over and punches him in the shoulder. “I knew that already, I was just confirming. I’m still surprised that you decided to go there. To Rikkai, I mean.”

He shrugs. “They were the first ones to offer me a tennis scholarship after I announced that I was going back to Japan after graduation. That’s all.”

“Nobody there you’re trying to see again?” she asks slyly.

“Nobody,” he repeats. He puts his earbuds into his ears and leans back, remaining silent for the rest of the car ride to his former home.

———

Ryoma wishes that they allowed pets in the dormitories. He supposes that having a single room to himself makes up for it, but still, he wishes he could’ve snuck a cat in.

He wonders distantly how his former roommates are doing. He knows from the infrequent e-mails that he trades with him that Liliadent had returned to Europe to pursue a professional career in tennis, but he hadn’t kept in contact with the other two.

Yuuta had been uncertain about his high school plans. He had made some vague noises about maybe following one of his senpai. The only thing he _was_ certain about was that he didn’t want to attend Seigaku’s high school. In any case, it was of little import to Ryoma; he wouldn’t be playing any Japanese high schools in America.

When his father had been on the phone with Ryuzaki-sensei, he’d heard “Toyama” mentioned occasionally, but he’d never been interested enough to ask. He still isn’t, to be frank, but he does know from what little he’s overheard over the past year that Toyama’s meteoric rise through high school tennis mirrored his own.

He knows, at least, that Shitenhoji won the national tournament in Toyama’s third year of middle school, Kachirou failing to lead Seigaku past prefecturals in Ryoma’s absence.

But the past is the past; he hasn’t spoken to anyone in Japan since moving back to the US for high school. Well, anyone besides Inui, who irregularly asks him for updates on his status, and Liliadent, who technically isn’t Japanese. He doesn’t even know if any of the people he had faced at Rikkai in middle school even stayed with the university until now.

Ryoma supposes that he’ll find out eventually.

———

Ryoma finds out sooner than he expects: the very next day, in fact. He’s eating his lunch in the cafeteria when a shadow falls over the table.

“Sadaharu told me that I might find you here.”

Ryoma looks up at the man looming over him. “Yanagi-san.”

Yanagi nods in acknowledgement and takes a seat across the table from Ryoma. “I’m surprised that you still remember my name after all these years. The odds weren’t very high.”

Ryoma shrugs. “Inui-san mentions you occasionally.”

Yanagi tilts his head at that, eyes still closed. “I would say I’m surprised, but—”

“You already predicted that,” Ryoma finishes. Yanagi smiles slightly at that and leans forward, resting his arms on the table.

“You’re one of the two freshmen who are here on a tennis scholarship then.”

Ryoma nods, then pauses with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “Two?”

“That’s all that the team knows officially, but naturally I have my predictions as to who the other one is.”

Ryoma shrugs. “It doesn’t matter who it is. I’ll beat him out for a spot on the regulars.”

“I see that your personality is as charming as ever.”

Ryoma knocks back the rest of his Ponta and shrugs, standing up. “Go write that down in your data book.”

———

Ryoma’s classes start without much fanfare. He skates through the first week with ease, lazily introducing himself to his professors and barely completing the introductory assignments. This isn’t what he’s here for. If he were here just to get his English degree, he would’ve stayed in America.

It’s not until Friday that he gets a taste of it. He slings his racket bag over his shoulder and makes his way over to the university’s tennis courts, familiar yet foreign. Rikkai doesn’t waive its physical education requirements for student athletes, but luckily for him, they offer a tennis class. Granted, it’s introductory level, but at least that means he won’t have to try; heaven knows that Rikkai’s tennis practices are rigorous enough.

He shuffles through the gate to the courts and starts to take his racket bag off when somebody taps him on the shoulder. He turns to see an unfamiliar boy staring at him expectantly.

Nothing about the boy stands out to Ryoma. He has brown hair, tied in a small ponytail, and is dressed simply in red shorts and a black tank top. Ryoma feels cold just looking at him. The boy blinks at Ryoma and his face splits into a blinding grin.

“You look just like your brother now.”

His voice is also unfamiliar, not too deep and with a huskiness to it that suggests that its owner might use it too vigorously. Ryoma looks at the boy for a second before walking past him, taking off his racket bag.

The boy chases after him. “Wait—wait! _Koshimae!_ ”

Ryoma stops at that, whipping his head around in disbelief. All the pieces slide into place and Ryoma sees something all too familiar at the core of it all.

_“Toyama?”_

“Whoa!” Toyama shouts, “Koshimae actually remembers me! It’s been, what, like four or five years?”

Ryoma turns his head back around and plucks at the strings of his racket. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know you.”

Toyama shuffles closer to him and pokes his shoulder again. “Don’t play dumb, Koshimae. I heard you say my name. I didn’t know you were coming here! I didn’t even realize that you had left Japan until half a year after you did! Are you joining the tennis team too? Wait, that’s a silly question; of course you are! What are you studying? Did you know that Shiraishi goes here too? Is anyone else from Seigaku at Rikkai now?”

Toyama pauses to take a breath and continues prattling on with all sorts of inane questions. Ryoma steadfastly ignores him, continuing to test the tension of his racket. The teacher walks onto the courts and Toyama abruptly stops talking. Strange, Ryoma thinks, since the Toyama that he knew would’ve continued blabbering until threatened.

The teacher drones on about something or other and Ryoma stares off into space, bored. Curiously enough, Toyama seems to be paying rapt attention to the instructor, hanging onto his every word.

“. . . and so we’ll be pairing you all up to start with by experience level. Raise your hand if you played in your old schools’ tennis clubs.”

Toyama and Ryoma are the only ones whose raise their hands. “How many years of experience do you have?” the teacher asks Toyama.

“Six!” he declares proudly. Ryoma can almost see Horio lurking in the background, proclaiming his eight years of tennis experience.

“And how many do you have?”

Ryoma blinks and looks up. “I don’t know. More than ten.”

The teacher lets out a low whistle. “Well then, er, what are your names?”

“Toyama and Koshimae!”

“It’s Echizen,” Ryoma corrects.

“Echizen?” Kintaro asks, confused.

“Echizen,” he confirms.

Toyama averts his gaze and slowly mouths Ryoma’s family name, feeling the way his lips form around the syllables.

“It suits you better than Koshimae, honestly.”

“Probably because it’s my actual name,” Ryoma replies sarcastically.

Toyama laughs and the teacher clears his throat. “Anyway. Toyama and Echizen. You two will be paired up for the duration of this class.”

Toyama smiles blindingly bright and laughs again. He grabs Ryoma by the arm. “C’mon, Echizen! Let’s go!”

He drags Ryoma over to the furthest court and frowns at him. “I did wonder why everyone always called you Echizen. I’d just assumed that it was your given name or something.”

“My given name,” Ryoma deadpans.

“Koshimae Echizen,” Toyama says, “It doesn’t really have much of a ring to it.” His frown deepens. “What _is_ your given name anyways?”

“How is this relevant?”

“Just tell me!” Toyama pouts and he suddenly looks thirteen again.

“It’s Ryoma. Echizen Ryoma.”

“Now that—that’s a name you could hear announced at the winner’s podium.”

Ryoma shrugs and walks to the other side of the court, leaving Toyama behind.

“Hey, Echizen!” Toyama shouts and Ryoma looks over his shoulder. “You didn’t go soft in America, did you?”

Ryoma turns away and keeps walking in lieu of an answer. He bends over to pick up a stray tennis ball and bounces it off the court, once, then twice. “Why don’t you find out?” he asks, hefting his racket in his left hand. He tosses the ball into the air and serves.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which moves that break the laws of physics break the rules of tennis

_Ryoma,_

_I hope that you find yourself well. Yesterday my coach treated me to dinner at a Japanese restaurant for doing well at my debut tournament. I had miso soup and thought of you, so I thought I should write you again. I didn’t win the tournament, but I did make it to the semifinals before being disqualified. They ruled crucifixion illegal despite it not being stipulated anywhere in the rules. Ridiculous._

_Are you back in Japan now? If I remember correctly from your last e-mail, you’re attending Rikkai University, correct? If Yagyuu is still attending there, please give him my warmest regards. If Kirihara is there . . . I’d rather that you not mention me lest he attempt to contact me again._

_Kindly update me with your competition results after the season begins. I look forward to seeing you work your way back up through the Japanese ranks as I conquer Europe._

_Regards,_ _  
_ _Liliadent_

The bright screen of Ryoma’s phone shines out into the darkness of his room. Ryoma switches his keyboard to English and begins to type out a reply to his friend.

_liliadent,_

_im ok. im settling in at rikkai. sucks to hear that u got disqualified. today i played t_

He pauses and frowns. Even if Liliadent remembers who Toyama is, the other boy would probably question Ryoma as to why he thought him significant enough to call out by name when he had failed to do so for any of his American opponents. He hits the backspace key several times.

_today i got disqualified too. the gym teacher gave me a withdraw fail after i made a crater in the tennis courts and billed me for the property damage._

The look of shock and rage on the teacher’s face was only rivaled by the sheer glee on Toyama’s.

“Echizen, Echizen!” he had said, “Do it again!”

“Do _not_ do it again,” the teacher had insisted.

In any case, he’s been banned from the tennis courts when practice isn’t in session. He _is_ grateful for the exception, loathe as he is to admit it. Transferring universities just to play tennis would’ve been a pain.

_i’ll tell u when i win all my matches._

_stay well,_ _  
_ _RYOMA_

He hits the reply button and leans back on his bed with a sigh.  It’s a shame that he’s been banned from the tennis classes on campus, but he’s still on the team, so he’s not too fussed about it. It may have been fun, for lack of a better descriptor, to play Toyama weekly though, not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

Ryoma’s phone buzzes and he frowns. They have a schedule: Liliadent e-mails him once a month, he replies within the week, the other boy doesn’t reply again until the next month. Ryoma checks his notifications.

_I see that you’ve met with Renji._

Ryoma puts his phone down with a sigh. He’s not in the mood to talk to Inui about his boyfriend. His phone buzzes again.

_There is an 83% chance that you’ll leave me on read._

Ryoma replies out of spite.

_im not gonna be the middleman for ur relationship_

_I wasn’t going to ask you to do that. He won’t tell me who the other freshman on scholarship at Rikkai was, and I was wondering if you knew yet._

_ur the enemy now. y should i tell u_

_besides isn’t prying data out of each other ur weird foreplay_

_Don’t be so crude. Is it a mutual acquaintance of ours?_

_idk_

_So it is. Is it Toyama?_

Shit. Well, it’s not like there’s anyone else in their year of a high enough caliber to merit a scholarship. Ryoma stops responding. Inui will take that as enough of a response.

———

Ryoma maintains a stony silence as Yanagi slides into the chair opposite his for the second time that week.

“I believe that this is the fastest anyone has ever gotten banned from using any of the athletic facilities.”

Ryoma pokes at his cold cafeteria noodles with his disposable chopsticks. Yanagi cocks his head slightly.

“If you’d like, I could recommend which other classes would best complement our team’s training regimen.”

Ryoma slurps down a couple noodles and looks up. “Is anybody putting you up to this?”

“No,” Yanagi replies, folding his hands, “consider this a senpai’s duty to his kouhai.”

Ryoma goes back to eating his dinner without another word. Yanagi shifts slightly and takes a notebook labeled “Echizen” out of his messenger bag.

“Based on what public records I could find about your matches in high school, it appears that all aspects of your play have improved.” He flips through a few pages and slides the notebook across the table. “I believe that you would best benefit from taking a class which improves your aerobic capacity and stamina. Your body has grown too fast to keep up with itself.”

Ryoma lets some soup splatter onto the notebook and peers closer at it. “Swimming?”

Yanagi nods and carefully takes his notebook back, dabbing at the soup stains with a napkin. “There is a high probability that you will increase your overall performance by taking a more holistic approach to your athletic career.” He pauses. “That, and it’s relatively easy on the joints and aids in their recovery, and many others in our sport of choice have a tendency to . . . overwork themselves, to say the least.”

“I’m not going to sacrifice my elbow for the sake of a single match.”

Yanagi raises his eyebrows at that. “I didn’t say that you would.”

Ryoma takes a sip from his Ponta. “It was strongly implied.”

“It’s good though that you’re conscious about hurting yourself. It wouldn’t do for us to develop a reputation for that along with causing injury.”

It’s Ryoma’s turn to quirk an eyebrow. “Kirihara?”

He nods. “An astute observation on your part. He’s gotten better, but a reputation is a reputation.”

“Does he still—” Ryoma gestures at his eyes with his chopsticks “—you know?”

Yanagi sighs. “He has more control over it now, but he does it deliberately too often for comfort.”

“I’m surprised that he hasn’t been kicked off the team yet for deliberately causing injury since I got banned from the courts just for causing property damage.”

He shakes his head. “He left that behind in middle school, thankfully. All of the injuries he causes nowadays have plausible deniability.”

“Plausible deniability.” Ryoma feels the syllables roll off his tongue. “That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

Yanagi shakes his head slightly. “It’s enough.” Yanagi puts his elbow on the table and rests his chin on his fist. “You are aware now that he’s your senpai, right? Rikkai isn’t as strict about seniority as it is about just respecting people who perform well, but you still need to be able to treat him with the appropriate amount of respect.”

Ryoma grimaces and takes another sip of his soda. “Can’t I just call him Kirihara-senpai and call it a day?”

Yanagi folds his arms in his lap. “It’s a start.” He grabs his notebook and places it back into his bag, brushing off his slacks and standing up. “Think about taking a swimming class, okay? There’s a 97% probability that it will help improve your tennis game.”

“Yes, Yanagi-senpai,” Ryoma replies obediently.

Yanagi nods and turns away. “I’ll see you after club activities start, Ryoma.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i stiill haven't decided yet whether or not i want to tag uzauza or inui properly because like. they are gonna be recurring charas but like. p much just in e-mails and they're not super plot relevant this just happens to be Me Shoving All My Faves Together: The Fic.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to hmu on twitter @shirakaya and/or throw ideas at me in the comments this fic is only halfway plotted so it's pretty open ended what could happen between chapters one and fifty. concrit _is_ welcome, as this is an exercise to improve my writing by the end of the year!


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